


climb a mountain (hold his hand)

by Bookdancer



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Car Accidents, Don’t copy to another site, Hurt Neil Josten, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Neil passes out no less than three (3) times, good bro Aaron, gratuitous cursing, making the pov character pass out is a good way to time skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:28:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24079759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookdancer/pseuds/Bookdancer
Summary: Neil gets into a car crash; Andrew is the mountain he can lean on. Wherein I asked myself what would happen if Neil said those particular words again, i.e. “Thank you. You were amazing,” and it all spiraled from there.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 18
Kudos: 336





	climb a mountain (hold his hand)

**Author's Note:**

> this has been in the works for so long (like two years at least) and i'm so glad to finally get it out into the world. it started as a tiny ficlet on tumblr but now we're here
> 
> i do not own the foxhole court, and this has been cross-posted to both ff.net (Bookdancer) and tumblr (@bookdancerfics). thanks as always to my beta @ queenofmoons67 (tumblr)
> 
> there's a lot of hurt in here but also a lot of comfort, so i hope you all enjoy!

Neil wakes up with his vision sideways and gravity on the wrong side of the car. His chest feels tight, and he can’t take a proper breath; the seatbelt digs across his neck and down his chest, riding high because of the strange position of the car.

It’s the only thing keeping him from falling on broken glass, the passenger seat’s window shattered from when it crashed on concrete.

“Andrew,” Neil groans, the name struggling up his throat until it spills from his lips, lays broken in the quiet air around him.

No one answers, and Neil gazes at the empty passenger seat for a full minute, his chest aching for a whole new reason, before he remembers that Andrew was never in the car in the first place.

“Oh,” he says, and his head hurts. He can see trees through the windshield, a winding mountain path that looks familiar, but he can’t remember what happened. He was at the apartment. At their apartment. Neil stares at the car keys still hooked into the ignition, his apartment key hanging on the same key ring, in an attempt to remember more.

He was at home.

He was at home, he was at home, he was—Kevin was there. As soon as the other striker’s face crosses his mind, he sees the scene clearly. They were going over the opposing team’s data for their next game. They were crowded on the couch, Neil just barely brushing up against Andrew’s arm. He thinks there may have been ice cream. Kevin… Kevin left before dinner, to meet Thea. Neil and Andrew decided on take-away.

Neil breathes in, as deeply as his seatbelt allows him to, and catches a whiff of vegetable lo mein. He’d been on his way home.

He doesn’t expect the stab of pain that follows. It breaks from his chest, and suddenly the low ache becomes a harsh pulse, every breath digging fire into his lungs.

“Andrew,” Neil calls again, attempting to curl into himself, but the seatbelt and gravity combine to make his efforts useless. He doesn’t know why he keeps asking for his boyfriend. Dimly, he wonders if it’s the concussion, or if asking for Andrew has become a pain response.

He instinctively flinches, as if waiting for his mother’s hand, because relying on someone else when he’s in pain was something she should have beaten out of him long ago.

Nothing touches him.

Thinking of his mother wakes him, though, and Neil struggles even more to escape the fog that drifts through his mind. Definitely a concussion.

Neil tries to think of Andrew, of Kevin, of Dan, of Renee, of all his old teammates who could have had a clue about what to do in this situation.

Aaron.

They’re not friends. Not really. No matter how many times Nicky brings them together with a smile on his face, they just haven’t been able to click. Allison said they’re both too anti-social, and promptly started a new bet. Fifty bucks they’ll never say anything nice about each other face to face. Not even ruining Allison’s win streak gave them any motivation to do that. Neil couldn’t even think of anything at the time.

But here. Nicky used to help Aaron study for nursing exams all the time. Always out loud, always bothering Neil and Kevin as they tried to review other exy games.

“I need to say it for it to stick,” Aaron used to say.

I’m never saying thank you to your face, Neil thinks, but simultaneously tries to take stock of his situation.

The car rests on its passenger side, the darkening sky visible through the driver’s window. Neil is only still in his seat because of his seatbelt, but the same thing that saved him digs into his chest and throat, making it hard to breathe. Every breath sends jagged pain through his ribs, and Neil thinks about all of Aaron’s old med diagrams and hopes he isn’t in danger of puncturing a lung. He thinks it’s too late to hope he’ll get out of this without a broken rib.

The smell of vegetable lo mein still hangs in the air, and Neil wonders if there’s noodles all over the backseat of Andrew’s car. He’ll have to apologize later. He laughs at the thought, because when has he ever apologized to Andrew, but Neil’s laughter only shakes his head, reminding him that he shouldn’t be moving it. Pain courses through his head, and he tries to move his other limbs in order to focus on something else.

Bad idea.

As soon as Neil moves his left leg, he has to bite the insides of his cheeks to keep from screaming. It won’t budge, caught on something under the steering wheel, and Neil tries to remind himself that he’s felt far worse. Tears won’t help him here.

His whole body aches and throbs now, piercing pain jolting his chest, leg, and head every time he even thinks about them.

Neil thinks back on Aaron’s study sessions, but he doesn’t want to try touching any of his injuries right now. Aaron, as usual, turned out to be useless.

“Fuck Aaron,” Neil whispers.

Instead, he turns to a different problem: Not staying in the wrecked car all night when the sun is going down. It’s late fall, and although his jacket is enough right now, Neil doesn’t think his body can handle exposure on top of everything else.

There’s not much he can do except use his phone to call someone, but that introduces yet another problem.

Using his phone means moving.

Neil doesn’t think of his mother here. He almost does, at first, because when he was running she was the only one to keep him going from town to town. But that’s not how he runs. Not anymore.

Neil pictures Andrew slipping a hand into his front pocket, possessive, and chases his boyfriend’s hand until he touches his own phone.

He punches in Andrew’s number, then struggles to lift the phone high enough. Finally, though, he gets it into his left hand and just rests it on his ear, the dialing noise coming through clearly.

“Neil,” Andrew answers, and Neil’s whole chest throbs.

“Andrew,” he says.

“Where are you? You should have been back already.”

“’m sorry,” Neil says, and he thinks his voice may be slurring.

“What?”

“Th’nk you,” Neil interrupts. His vision blurs, whether from tears or dizziness he doesn’t know, but he feels faint. He doesn’t have long before he passes out, so he just says the first thing that comes to mind. “You w’re ‘mazin’.”

“Neil,” Andrew says, and Neil would laugh if he had the breath to, because it almost sounds like Andrew is worried. “Where are you? What—”

Neil closes his eyes and lets his arm drop from where it rested by his head.

His phone falls, the tinny sounds of Andrew’s voice fading until Neil won’t be able to hear them.

It doesn’t matter; Neil isn’t awake to listen anyway.

* * *

In the end the sound of a car door slamming wakes him, forcing his eyes open. The world lays shattered across his vision. He blinks, and the world becomes darkness only to break again. When Neil focuses he realizes that he’s staring at the passenger side window, in pieces against the pavement.

“Andrew, wait!” someone calls, and Neil’s head jerks on instinct.

Andrew?

“Fuck off,” someone else says, their voice rough, and heavy, and Neil automatically knows that it would smell of cigarettes.

“There could be a gas leak,” the first voice says. Whoever it is apparently hasn’t stopped trying to block Andrew’s way, so either they’re very ignorant of who Andrew is or they’re an idiot. That or they’re Aaron.

Neil would bet all the earnings of every previous bet he’s won with the foxes that it’s Aaron.

“My car doesn’t _leak_ ,” Andrew snarls, and Neil snorts.

The sound stems from his chest but jostles his whole body, and suddenly everything _hurts_.

“‘n’drew,” he says, barely managing to moan out the name through his pain.

“Neil?” the first voice says. “It’s Aaron.”

Bingo.

“We’re standing in view of the windshield, can you look up?”

“Fuck,” Neil says.

“I bet,” Aaron says, and Neil rolls his head so that he’s holding it up. he stares out the windshield to see the twins illuminated in a pair of headlights, the world dark around them.

“150%,” Andrew says. Neil can’t help but smile at that, and Andrew scowls fiercely.

“Andrew,” Aaron says. “Go call 911. I’ll take it from here.”

“I thought I told you to fuck off?”

Aaron frowns at his twin. “Who knows more about what to do in this situation, Andrew? If it’s you then I’ll gladly step aside. But we both know it’s not.”

Andrew stares at Aaron, then turns.

“I hate you,” he tells Neil.

“I know,” Neil says.

Andrew flips Aaron off and walks away, aggressively pulling his phone out. As he punches in the numbers and greets the emergency operator, he keeps his gaze on Neil. On anyone else it would feel like being pinned down, unable to move. Neil feels it settle on him like a weighted blanket, and he lets it wrap around him. Safe.

“Can you smell gas?” Aaron asks, and Neil barely keeps himself from shaking his head.

“No,” he says instead.

Relief crosses Aaron’s face.

“Okay,” he says. “That’s good. I can’t see any spills but I wanted to make sure.”

Finally, Aaron approaches the car. His gaze skim over it, no doubt looking for ways to get Neil out.

“How’s your breathing? Anything blocking your airways?”

“No,” Neil says. “My breathing’s fine. I’m fine.”

Neil’s also impressed, he manages to make out Aaron’s eye roll even through the windshield and several feet away.

“No need to lie about that, idiot. You obviously have a nasty concussion and who knows how many other injuries. How about the truth?”

Again, Neil barely stops himself from replying physically.

“The seatbelt’s a bit tight,” he says instead. “You can see the head injury. I’ve broken at least one rib, but my lungs should be fine.” He’s quiet for a second, but he meets Andrew’s eyes and then looks back at Aaron. “Also my leg’s stuck.”

“Okay,” Aaron says, and then turns to Andrew. “Did you get all that?”

Andrew nods, short and sharp, keeping his gaze on Neil, and relays the information to the 911 operator. Aaron turns back to him.

“I just need to ask you some more questions, okay? In case you pass out again.”

“Haven’t passed out,” Neil protests, and Aaron stares at him, obviously exasperated.

“Yes you did, while you were on the phone with Andrew earlier. Andrew heard everything, you can’t deny this, Neil.”

Neil shrugs, and then hisses. Maybe Aaron isn’t so useless after all.

“What’s your name?” Aaron asks.

Never mind. He’s clearly delusional.

“You already know that,” Neil says.

Aaron sighs. “Not for me, for you. I’m making sure you haven’t forgotten anything. It’s also a concussion check, even though yours is pretty obvious. What’s your name?”

Neil grumbles. “Neil Josten.”

Aaron nods. “Do you know where you are?”

He glances around. “The forest. On a road. I’m in Andrew’s car.”

“Obviously,” Aaron says dryly. “Do you know what you were doing in Andrew’s car?”

“Driving.”

“ _Neil_.”

“Getting…” Neil blinks, hard, as he tries to jog his memory. He thought for sure he knew this one. Didn’t he already figure this out?

“It’s okay if you can’t remember,” Aaron says. “Do you know what day it is?”

Neil takes a long, deep sniff.

“Vegetable lo mein,” he says.

“What?”

“There’s vegetable lo mein in the car,” he says. “Was I getting take-out?”

Aaron glances back at Andrew, who nods before yelling something into the phone.

“Yeah,” Aaron says. “Do you know what day it is?”

“Thursday,” Neil says instinctively. He’s not quite sure why, but it feels like a Thursday.

“Good,” Aaron says, and finally the relief returns to his face. “Do you know the specific date?”

Neil pauses, thinking. “Yesterday was July 14th. So today… July 15th.”

“Nicely done,” Aaron says. He turns back to Andrew. “You can tell the emergency operator that he’s out of it, and he took some prompting on a few of the questions, but he answered all of them.”

Neil just frowns. There’s something about that date. July 15th. Why would July 15th matter?

Suddenly it clicks.

“Exy!” he says, the word coming out in a gasp. July 15th, he has a game the next day. It’s summer: The middle of their season.

“Junkie,” Andrew spits.

Neil frowns at him, but struggles to reach his seatbelt. He needs to get out, needs to heal in time for the game. Needs to keep his deal with the Moriyamas.

“Neil, no,” Aaron says, instinctively stepping towards Neil only to find the car in his way. “You’re only going to make it worse.”

“Moriyamas,” Neil says, and finally makes contact with his seatbelt.

“Neil!” Aaron protests, and Neil sees Andrew start forward.

The seatbelt unclicks, and all of a sudden the pressure keeping him in place falls away. His whole body jerks sideways, headed for the ground, and the sight of broken glass reminds Neil why removing his seatbelt was a bad idea.

Then his left leg catches under the steering wheel again, and Neil _screams_ , the sound ripping from his throat until it breaks.

He passes out.

* * *

He wakes for the third time to the feeling of someone pressing their fingers to his wrist.

“Fast but weak heartbeat,” the person reports. “And he’s clammy. Irregular breathing. Definitely in shock, someone get a blanket over here.”

“Hhhrrrgg,” Neil groans.

“He’s awake!” someone else says.

“Sir?” the first person asks. “Can you hear me?”

“Andrew,” he says. The second person repeats the name, this time as a question. The answer comes in the form of a soft touch on the back of his hand, so soft that Neil knows it must be Andrew. No one else has the ability to make the barest touch feel like a mountain he can lean on.

“Neil,” Andrew says, and Neil blinks his eyes open.

“Yes,” he murmurs, and Andrew’s hand curls around his, then squeezes.

“Hi, Neil,” the first voice from before says, and Neil follows it to a tall looking paramedic with blue hair. “You’re doing great, but we’re going to take you to the hospital, okay?”

“Mm,” Neil says. He tugs on Andrew’s hand, and Andrew lets him pull it to his chest. “Andrew?”

“I’m coming with you,” Andrew says, and if the paramedics have any doubt about that they only need to look him in the eyes to see otherwise.

They don’t run the siren in the ambulance, which Neil is a bit disappointed in because they do in all the movies and TV shows that Matt has made him watch, but at the same time Neil guesses it’s a good thing. No siren equals no dying, right?

He says so, and the second paramedic, this one with freckles and ginger hair, laughs and nods in confirmation. Andrew squeezes his hand tighter.

“You’re a mountain,” Neil tells him, and Andrew makes a face. Neil laughs.

“Probably the pain relief,” the ginger paramedic says.

“No,” Neil insists, “Andrew’s a mountain. Strong. Sturdy.” He pauses to laugh again. “But short.”

The ginger paramedic covers her mouth with one hand. Andrew’s face twitches.

“Andrew,” Neil says, and tries to pat Andrew’s hand only to find that he’s already holding it. He rubs his thumb over the side of Andrew’s hand instead.

“Junkie,” Andrew deadpans, but his eyes are locked on Neil’s, he looks paler than normal, and he’s been habitually checking his phone every few minutes.

“Andrew,” Neil says. He can’t remember what he wanted to say.

Andrew just sighs, long sufferingly, but his shoulders don’t look as tense so Neil counts it as a win. He falls asleep like this, to the steady feeling of Andrew’s hand in his.

When he wakes up again he’ll be in a hospital room with two bouquets and a box of chocolates. Andrew will have already eaten half, but he gets Neil water when he asks and when he turns the TV on it’s already at the exy channel. Neil’s phone has been filled with text messages from the Foxes and his current teammates, all wishing him some version of “get well soon.” One of the bouquets is from Katelyn, the other signed “Kevin” but clearly in Thea’s handwriting. Neil will wake later to Aaron reviewing his chart, and he’ll close his eyes to Aaron’s startled glare.

His leg is broken, and so are two of his ribs, and he has a concussion that will keep him out of play until the All-Star Break, if not longer. Ichirou Moriyama calls him personally to assure him that as he doesn’t lose money for not playing, he will still be expected to pay the agreed upon amount.

Wymack calls to check in, and his coach visits in person, and Andrew stays by his side the whole time.

When Neil falls asleep, it’s to Andrew’s hand in his, a mountain underfoot.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading, i hope you all liked it! if you did, please consider leaving a comment, i'll love you forever.
> 
> i also have a tumblr account, @bookdancerfics, so feel free to stop by and bug me about writing.


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